MY story is not gospel, nor is anyone else’s. EVERY story is different. There’s no way to prepare or build solid expectations for what each person’s experience will look like. There are horror stories, there are magical, easy, quick stories, and there are stories that fall on every inch of the in-between. In sharing mine, I hope to provide some transparent truth and more importantly – support in helping anyone out there about to go through their own experience remember that it’s going to be ok. If you’re scared – that’s ok. If you have a million questions – that’s ok. If you’re sick of hearing countless people offer unsolicited conflicting advice – it’s going. To be. OK.
On November 5th, I married my best friend. We found out on Halloween night that my divorce had FINALLY not only solidified, but had also reached the point where I could pick up the formal documentation that would allow me to re-marry. What began in January of 2022 had FINALLY come to a close. I was free. I was so relieved to never have to feel the anxiety of my ex still being in my life in some shape or form ever again. I was at the court house at opening the next day to pick those documents up, we scheduled our marriage license application and civil ceremony for the following day, and hoped that little boy would wait at least 24 more hours before making his debut. He listened intently. We had a beautiful, quick ceremony at the court with our parents and spent the rest of that day feeling overjoyed to know we’d be bringing our son into the world exactly as we wanted: as husband and wife.
With our marriage goal having been achieved, we could finally anticipate the arrival our son without the divorce looming over our heads. I went to my 38 week appointment where my OBGYN let me know my cervix was closed, tight, and showing no signs of going into labor anytime soon. Little boy was clearly comfy and not coming for another couple of weeks. She even asked when I wanted to start talking about induction to which I said “let him be comfy. If he’s still like this by next week’s appointment, we’ll talk about inducing.” Realizing little dude was CONTENT staying put, I headed to the gym and had a KILLER leg workout. It felt so damn good to lift heavy at 38 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I followed that workout with a pineapple puree smoothie, kept walking all day, and ended the night having sex. Apparently – that combo was the perfect recipe for baby boy to give up his comfy spot in utero.
Not only did little boy wait for mom and dad to get married, but he also did us a little extra favor by not coming on November 6th (my dad’s, brother’s, AND cousin’s birthday.) We all thought “there’s enough birthdays on the 6th. He needs his own day.” At 12:30 in the morning on November 7th, exactly 30 minutes past November 6th, I woke up with some moderate cramps. I thought I just needed to pee (that often would make midnight discomfort dissipate) so I did, went back to bed, and just a few minutes later, started to feel regular cramping. I opened my phone and started tracking them JUST in case. Needless to say, in the following photo you can see they were clearly real contractions.
At about 2:30 am, I realized the intensity was getting REAL. We loaded up the car, and headed to our hospital By the time we got into our triage room at 3:00 am, I was 3 centimeters dilated. I was still able to talk through contractions and smile. I was joking with my husband and we were excited at the thought that this was IT. We were in labor. The nurse staff asked me if I wanted an epidural. What I didn’t know until a few months ago, is that it takes roughly an hour from the moment you ask for an epidural to the moment you actually get the epidural and then up to another 30 minutes for it to actually begin working (although, many people say it’s an immediate relief.) The majority of that time being the time it takes for you to get hooked up to an IV, have a water bag make it to your room, and then for you to go through a bag and a half to be fully hydrated before getting the actual epidural. I originally planned to try and wait as long as I could (goal was get to 6 centimeters dilation) before getting the epidural, but I was NOT going to turn it down if I was in horrible pain. At that moment, sitting at 3 or so centimeters and not in an exuberant amount of pain, my gut said “get it because it’s going to take a while for it to get here.” Thank FUCK I got it when I did and if I ever go through this shit again, I will ask for it the second I step through the doors. The pain from that moment on got progressively worse by the contraction. Each one got more intense, I got louder, and the clock ticked by slower. The nurse came back in about 15 minutes after that to give me some cloths for my head because I had thrown up and I asked “ball park range for my own mentality – how long am I going to wait for this epidural?” The nurse looked at the clock and said “probably an hour and a half.” It was five minutes to 4:00 am at that point. I wanted so badly to say “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” But instead, I took a deep breath, said “ok. I can do this. 5:30 am” and she left. That hour and a half was the hardest, most physically painful 90 minutes of my life to date. I always thought the people who scream bloody murder in labor were just not practicing the right breathing or moaning/ sounds. I was viciously wrong. I became absolutely FERAL. By the time we were admitted and transferred out of triage and into our delivery room, the contractions were so unbearable that I couldn’t help but be loud. I didn’t scream, but I was 100% heard throughout that unit for sure. Finally, at 5:30 am on the dot, the anesthesiologist rolled into our room. While she set up, I powered through three more debilitating contractions (apologizing the whole time because I knew I was probably scaring the shit out of other patients in the wing,) and then felt the sweet relief from the epidural gods. Within 10 minutes, I was calm, comfortable, and a different human compared to the goblin I had turned into before the medication.
The timeline after that was beautiful. Around 7:40, one of our nurses came in and after talking, we found out she worked at the Water World stunt show my husband has worked at. As soon as the words “Water World” were spoken, my water broke. I looked to my husband with shocked eyes, but everyone thought I was joining in their surprise in finding out about their shared work history. I got checked out and sure enough – it was indeed water world between my completely numb legs (that’s something else I didn’t fully comprehend; how unbelievably numb my legs would be. I couldn’t lift them, I couldn’t feel them beyond pressure being applied when touched. It was such a strange sensation, but thank god for it.) MINUTES after my water broke, I felt my body start pushing without my say so. It was uncontrollable, completely involuntary, and definitely made me question the 6 centimeter dilation they claimed I was at just an hour ago. A nurse came back in to check me after I pressed the call button to tell them I was pushing without pushing. She was kind of nonchalant until she put her fingers barely an inch inside me. “OH. Yup. Ok. He’s right there.” Within minutes, our room was bustling with activity. At 8:15, I started pushing. Even numb, that shit was not fun. I started out trying to “breathe” push – avoiding “purple face” straining and instead, using my core to bear down and guide baby out. I quickly realized that it wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be. I was also so scared of pooping that I didn’t fully commit to pushing until the midwife delivering my baby specifically said “those muscles are so close together that you have to push like your pooping.” I hated it, but took a breath and pushed like hell. Immediate movement. Not even a minute later, I felt him crowning. The PRESSURE my god. I felt the hugeness of my body stretching around his head and every ten seconds I’d push took monumental effort all for him to slide back in an inch or so once I’d release. It felt like we were there for 45 minutes, but at 8:37, he was here.
7 hours of labor in total. I know I’m super fortunate to have had that quick of an experience. However – it felt like AGES waiting for that epidural. People talk often about the instant relief you feel once the baby is out, but my experience was less relief and more distraction. It was the COOLEST moment when they put that floppy little boy on my chest. The little being that I had felt move inside of me who never truly felt real to me because I couldn’t SEE him was now here in front of me – very much real. He let out the biggest cry as soon as he hit my chest and it was the most comforting sound in the world. Knowing he was breathing felt so safe. In that moment, I thought of the countless people who didn’t hear that sound during their experience. I felt so lucky to hear those little screams. I remember looking up to my brand new husband – my very best friend – and feeling an overwhelming sense of love, adoration, and accomplishment together. Like – look what we did. Look what we made. We did it and he’s here and he’s ok.
As much as I hoped I’d avoid it, I did have a perineal tear during birth. Luckily, only a grade 1, but still – I needed stitches. Because I had to be stitched up, my husband was able to hold our boy in those first few minutes of his life which was part of our birth plan; if I can’t immediately hold him for any reason, then his dad needs to. Obviously, once the baby is here, the attention is all on them because everyone has anticipated their arrival for so long. During pregnancy, it’s all about mom. The care, concern, infatuation, etc. It all goes towards mom because she’s carrying that little miracle. Once they’re out, that attention goes straight to baby (which is a GOOD thing.) I felt that overwhelmingly in that moment though. As I lay there, bruised, bloody, literally torn open, and exhausted, the room was focused on the baby. I remember feeling each insertion of the needle into my skin followed by each pull of the thread as our midwife sewed my perineum back together. I remember wanting so desperately to be standing next to my husband holding our baby. It was a moment for me where I realized how the world switches once that nugget is born. Especially when it comes to postpartum.
The hellscapes of postpartum began immediately. Once I was stitched, a nurse put a diaper on me and we began the transfer to our recovery room. They wheeled this half standing walker into my room where you kneel on these pads and hang onto handles and they roll you – hunched over with a blanket draped over you, into recovery. At this point, my epidural had just started to wear off so I was still pretty numb, but could feel a good bit more than when I was pushing. By the time I got into my recovery bed, the meds had worn off. The sensation of fullness is all I could focus on. Like I was sitting on a rock hard pillow and any time I’d move, it was sharp. The following 24 hours were full of constant ice pad changes, bleeding, passing clots, pain, tons of ibuprofen, and fear. Funny enough, the one thing that I was 100% unprepared for because no one talks about it is the pain that comes from breast feeding. Worse than birth. Worse than my endometriosis. Worse than anything I thought I’d feel feeding my baby. After 8 hours of trying to get him to nurse and crying my eyes out from the pain, I thought I’d have to formula feed (which is FINE by the way. If the baby is fed, then you’re doing a great job. Fuck what anyone else tells you to try and get you to feed your baby the way they think is best.) I wanted to nurse if I could, but I knew I wouldn’t be upset if I needed to do formula. So I accepted that I just probably wouldn’t breast feed. The overwhelming judgement I got from doctors, other moms, and people in general when they found out I was struggling nursing was insane. SO much advice I didn’t ask for came in from every direction on how to nurse, what I could try, how I could power through the pain, etc. I couldn’t believe how many people just didn’t seem to care that I said I was in an immeasurable amount of pain. Again though, I’ve learned that once baby is here, general care for mom drops drastically if not dissipates completely. At about 2 weeks in, I’ve got into a rhythm doing a combination of nursing with nipple shields, pumping, and bottle feeding breast milk, but we had formula on standby.
Our birth experience may have only been 7 hours worth of labor, but the real labor really begins once birth is over. Having a stellar partner and community has been paramount in my survival. I have no idea how people out there do this as a single parent. I have so much respect (and so much of a broken heart) for those who have done this by themselves. I’ve had the strongest community behind me and I feel like a stronger human having gone through birth, but I can confidently say that as of this moment, I NEVER want to do this again. Just as people have been so quick to contradict my statements about pregnancy with their own dismissive comments and suggestions, the response to me not wanting any more kids has given me the same response literally 100% of the time. Every. Single. Person – has come back with “well, you’ll change your mind” or some variation of that kind of comment. In reality, I feel like the only way for people to fully grasp how deadly serious I am is for them to see me in the trenches. My mom has seen those trenches and she finally sees what I mean and now, has made comments like “I don’t think you should do this again.” I feel like – FINALLY someone gets it. Finally, someone believes me when I say this and finally, I feel seen and that I’m not just talking out of emotion. My husband asked if I wanted him to get a vasectomy and I (shockingly) said no. I’ve taken enough trips around the sun to know that the person I am changes so drastically in just 5 years time. Who I was in 2010 vs 2015 vs 2020 vs now were each completely different humans with different thoughts, circumstances and goals. With that in mind, I’d hate to take the option away from me several years down the line when her circumstances could be completely different should she want another child. However, as of THIS moment, I 100% do NOT want anymore. I am more than content and happy to make our son our number one priority.
I recognize that I tend to have a more pessimistic, yet down to earth view on everything regarding what it takes to reproduce, but I know I am nowhere near alone in that. While I think it’s wonderful that there are people who feel that the idea of pregnancy is wonderful, that birth is magical, and the overall experience of everything surrounding it is positive, I also know the reality for me has been pretty much the opposite in every way AND I STILL LOVE THE EVER LIVING CRAP OUT OF MY CHILD. I know I’m not alone in feeling that and it’s so important to remember that feeling one of those will never negate the other. All the same, I hated being pregnant, I hated the (overall) experience of labor and birth, and postpartum is a circle of hell I never knew could exist (but that will be its own post.) I’d love to hear your thoughts, stories, and feelings on birth, labor and delivery in the section “Letters and Lullabies: Letters to Other Woman – Invitation.” Submit yours through the contact link and we’ll build a community of diversity through experience. Whether you had the most beautiful and easy experience, thought you wouldn’t make it through it, or whatever it is that YOU experienced, I’d love to read the truth of how YOU were crowned mother.
